If I knew the way, I would take you home
by nhsansanfan
Summary: Modern sansan. Will Sandor help Sansa chose freedom and happiness? If you don't enjoy fictiticious smut, this story isn't for you. Rated M for a reason.
1. Chapter 1

He watched her from the shadows. She came to rosary every morning, stayed for the Mass; she lingered after, on her knees praying. She would have been a bother to him and his custodial duties, but she was so lovely. She was young, beautiful and sad. He almost forgot his sadness, anger, disappointment as he was lost in hers. She would end her prayers abruptly, bless herself, stand up, gather her things, genuflect and then swiftly exit the church, without an interested glance. In the months past, she had brushed off the priests' interests and conversation. Granted she had done it politely, but her disinterest in them (and all of the other catty church ladies) was plainly clear. But here she was every morning, except Saturdays, praying from 7:30 until about 9:30 or 10.

This made Sandor wonder many things. Firstly, what did she do on Saturdays? She never missed any other day, why would she skip Saturdays? He was curious what she did instead. Secondly, he wondered what she did for the rest of the day. One look at her could tell she had money. She was impeccably dressed and well mannered. She also was always alone.

The irony of the situation for Sandor was, as much as he was here in church, he wasn't a religious man. He was 2 years sober, he had been given this generous gift for a job, money, free room and board. He lived in a small apartment near the parish garage. He had his peace and quiet. He had time to read and he had an important job… cleaning the parish and fixing things that were broken. He had been broken and the parish had indirectly repaired some of his brokenness. He had not found God. He wasn't looking for that kind of redemption. He found self worth being sober, clean, having a purpose. He would never be handsome; the fire and abuse scars took that away from him. But, the women and children at church didn't fear him. He would get friendly smiles and pleasantries. He almost died of shock when the catty church ladies remembered him at holidays with baked goods and knitted hats and mittens. He chuckled, "good Christian women" not wanting to be out done by their cohorts, in providing for the less fortunate. Well, some of them used some very soft yarn that felt nice on his face. His burn scars were very sensitive to the cheap yarn some of them used. That's what he needed; a fucking rash on his already horribly scarred face from some synthetic yarn.

He dined with the parish priest, who like himself was misunderstood. Father Sam Tarly, the priest had met Sandor at his first AA meeting. Father Sam hadn't lead the meeting, but it was his church who sponsored the meetings. Sandor was fresh out of prison, struggling, miserable, and angry. Now he was just angry... .sometimes. He was grateful for the second chance, when no one else would give him a bone. He took classes at the night school. He had his GED and was now working on some college courses. He had the potential, low intelligence had never been his downfall. He and Fr. Sam were different in many aspects, but their similarities made them kindred spirits. Sam was morbidly obese, Sandor was a hulking figure, well over six and a half feet with no visible fat on his body. Sam was clearly shy and tounge tied around beautiful women, Sandor knew what they thought of him, so he never made any effort, lest he be hurt. Both men were lonely and enjoyed each others company. They liked to read and watch people, so it gave them ample choices for conversation.

Sandor had watched Sam attempt to talk to his new parishioner. She had not shown any interest. Sam wanted to talk about her to Sandor during their meals. It was too much for Sandor. He tried not to be drawn to her, but as he had been a victim of abuse, he knew an abused woman when he saw one. He also saw that she was in some sort of denial, so there was little use to try to get involved. However, Sandor could not escape the intoxicating smell of her, perfume, sunshine, who knows what. He missed that smell on Saturdays as he prepared the church for the upcoming Sunday services.. He knew in less than 24 hours he would have a few precious minutes to breathe in that mysterious woman's scent. It gave him a strange feeling of hope, that the life of a church custodian was not the only one he was going to live.


	2. Chapter 2

Sansa loved the church, she had only been attending Mass there regularly for a few months. She had only been living in this town for a short time. It was her escape, her refuge. Her fiancé would allow her some time alone to go to Mass, so she got precious relief, quiet time, darkness, songs and memories of her happy childhood would flood her mind. Sometimes she could blot it out and focus on the prayers. She prayed but she wasn't sure for what exactly. She wasn't mistreated. Her fiancé was gentle, but he was disinterested in her (how could that possibly be, she wondered), their marriage made sense, but it was not a marriage of love. She was bored and lonely. Going to church gave her a reason to get up in the morning. It encouraged her to get dressed and look "the part".

She felt badly for the priest. He so wanted to be her confidant of sorts. He was friendly enough, but Sansa wasn't in a position to have close friends. The massive handyman made her nervous. She could tell he was a con, ex-con whatever. It didn't matter, he made her uncomfortable. The more she thought about it, it was not because of his appearance, but his eyes. He would look at her, through her and she felt as if she had bared her soul without saying a word. It was disconcerting.

It started as an ordinary day; most days were like all the others. This one was different and it was the catalyst for the change in things to come. While Sansa was going through the motions of the Mass, she must have locked her knees. She had been running late that morning and had skipped breakfast. The combination of these two things caused her to faint. Luckily for Sansa, Sandor had been quietly standing in the alcove near her. She always sat near the back, close to the confessionals. He was close enough, he could smell her, but not so much that he was breathing down her neck (no matter how much he wanted to). He saw her wobble and sway. He rushed into the pew and caught her gently, before she cracked her head on the pew. He tenderly lifted her up and took her to the back of the church, into one of the meeting rooms.

She was a tiny little thing; tall, but slender. He saw her eyelids flutter as he carried her to the couch. This was the room where engaged couples would sit on the couch and talk to the priest about marriage and marital duties and all that goes on in the pre-wedding glow. Ha-ha, before the gowns and the gloves come off. Anyway, it was convenient; he could put her on the couch. He got her a small cup of water.

When he came back into the room, she was still lying there, looking around a little dazed.

"Are you alright?" He asked her.

Her eyes were wide, with confusion and general malaise.

She gasped for her answer, which was misconstrued.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you," Sandor mumbled "I just didn't want you to pass out and hit your head and get blood all over my nicely polished floor. We've got a wedding tomorrow."

He saw that she was sitting up and would be fine, even if she was still looking confused. He looked at her sadly and walked away.


	3. Chapter 3

As Sandor walked away, his emotions went from disappointment and sadness of sorts to anger. Frankly, he was pissed off. How dare that woman judge him! If it weren't for him, she would have hit her head and gotten really hurt. He saved her and she didn't have the decency to thank him or even smile!

He stormed out of the church and kicked open the door to his apartment. He sat at his table. He saw his 2 year sobriety chip on the table. He was thinking how he would really like to drown his sorrows, disappointment and pain in some alcohol. Then maybe he could beat the shit out of someone. That would cheer him up. He closed his eyes. That was the old Sandor, back when he was a mangy dog. The more he thought about it, alcohol and violence wouldn't solve this problem.

So, what would solve the problem? Did he have the courage to go back and see if that woman had moved from the couch? If she was gone, then he would go chop firewood for Fr. Sam. The physical exertion of chopping wood might calm him down.

Sandor stood up, washed his face in the kitchen sink. Out the door he went.

He saw that the woman was talking to Fr. Sam. He took a deep breath and approached them.

"How is she doing, Father?" Sandor mumbled.

Fr. Sam grinned at him "Sansa, "Sam began, "I don't know if you have been properly introduced to Mr. Clegane? He really runs the parish, making sure everything is the way it's supposed to be. He must be heaven sent, as he saved you a nasty headache."

Sansa blushed prettily, "Thank you so very much Mr. Clegane," She began "I was running late and didn't eat breakfast this morning. Then I locked my knees. Oh my goodness, I am such a fool."

"Please," Sandor rasped, noticing Sansa had not adverted her eyes and was looking at him while she spoke, "Please call me Sandor."

Fr. Sam rubbed his hands together as his ample stomach growled "I hate to interrupted but my stomach alarm just went off and it is now time for our coffee break. Sansa, you need nourishment, please join us." He ushered her into the rectory. Sandor followed, not believing his good fortune.

The housekeeper, Gilly's greatest joy was feeding Fr. Sam and Sandor. Gilly had been Sam's housekeeper and cook as long as Sandor had been at the church. Gilly had an older husband who Sandor suspected was abusive. She had a young son, whom Sam adored. Gilly and her little one were usually in the rectory, cleaning, cooking, and keeping things homey and merry. Sam insisted Sandor share meals with him. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement. After 2 years together it was an easy and amicable friendship. Sandor was content to sit and drink his coffee and listen to Fr. Sam chat up Sansa.

Gilly had made her famous lemon cakes, which Sansa found delicious. Fr. Sam laughed, as Sansa was starting on her third cake. "I'll have to tell you in advance when Gilly makes those cakes for coffee break, so you'll be able to join us. For a little bit of a thing, boy, you can put away those cakes!"

Sansa chewed, swallowed and grinned "You know Father," she began, "If those lemon cakes weren't as delicious, I might be embarrassed, but I truly have never eaten anything so delicious!"

Coffee break was over; Sandor excused himself to go chop wood. He was feeling better.

He could see in through the rectory window, Sansa and Sam chatted some more. Sansa was giggling with Gilly and her little boy.

On her way out, she approached Sandor. She watched him chop wood for a little bit "You're really strong" she said aloud.

"Aye" He kept chopping

"I just wanted to thank you again for saving me" she smiled at him.

"It was the least I could do" Sandor mumbled awkwardly, delighted inside.

"I see you every day," Sansa began, "I am glad that we finally got to meet." She smiled shyly.

Sandor smiled back, which he thought actually made his scars and his face look worse.

Sansa, much to both of their surprise, stood tiptoe, and boldly took both of Sandor's cheeks in her hands and kissed the burnt one. She smelled like lemon cakes.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N I have watched the first 2 seasons of HBO's portrayal of the books and I am currently in the middle of the third book, _A storm of swords_. I am taking some liberties with my story, so it is not based on cannon. I am not up to date on GRRM's version of Sansa and the Eyrie and what transpires. From what I have read in fan fiction, I am going to base the fiancé loosely on the Harry the Heir character. Forgive where I stray from cannon. Any criticism and/or opinions are always appreciated.

Sansa walked away from Sandor, whose mouth was hanging open. Sansa couldn't believe what a strange morning it was turning out to be. Sansa was shocked by her boldness. There was something about Sandor that endeared him to her. She wasn't certain what it was.

The following morning as Sansa entered the church sanctuary, she saw Sandor, and he was hard to miss. He was outside raking leaves. It was a beautiful fall morning. She approached him, and gently touched his arm "How is you this morning Sandor?" she greeted him.

He turned, surprised, and grinned, putting down the rake "I hope you are better today than yesterday," he rasped, "I have outside chores to do; I won't be there to catch you if you fall today."

She looked him in the eye. She couldn't believe this new boldness in her. She was approaching Sandor, making the effort, flirting with him. That was not like the usual Sansa. "Oh, I think if I needed you, you would be there." She said softly, but confidently. Then she heard the chimes, signaling the start of mass, so she hurried off, waving and grinning over her shoulder to a wide eyed Sandor, who shook his head, afraid to trust his ears.

After the service, Fr. Sam invited Sansa to join him for coffee again. She gladly accepted, hoping to see Sandor and eat some more lemon cakes. She took Fr. Sam's offered arm and they chatted casually as they walked to the rectory.

Sansa was young and naïve, yes. But she was also not a complete fool when it came to recognizing how men stared at her. She was stunning to look at; and hid her true personality behind a veil of mild disinterest and prim and proper attitudes. Men generally sought her out to make idle conversation or would just blatantly stare at her. Perhaps it was Sandor's aloofness that drove her to seek him out. Maybe it was because he didn't look at her like a piece of meat or a free meal ticket. Sansa had been in two relationships. The first one as a teenager, Joff had been horribly abusive, physically and emotionally. Luckily, she had been spared sexual abuse and her virtue remained. She managed to escape him by going to college. He lost interest and she hadn't seen or heard from him in years.

Sansa was pleased to see the lemon cakes but the table was set for two and Sansa did not see Sandor anywhere. She sat down and they chatted and eventually the conversation came to Sansa's situation. Engaged, cared for with food, clothes and shelter, but how she was lonely and her Sansa had grown up in a wealthy family, surrounded by loving parents and siblings. Misfortune had struck and her parents and older siblings had passed away. Now she and her remaining siblings were displaced and estranged. Sansa had become close to the family's attorney, who doled out the inheritance. He was rather slippery, but had introduced her to Harry. Harry meant well, by all appearances they were a good match. But there was no love or affection. Harry was well to do, he would make a good husband. Sansa was beautiful and refined. She would make a stunning wife. Now that Sansa realized she had a confidant, the years worth of pent up worries, concerns, speculations, deep dark secrets and dreams came spilling out. Sansa could not hold back one thought that constantly saddened her. While she and Harry tolerated each other's company. They were friendly, cordial, pleasant, but Sansa was in no rush to the altar. She knew she would have marital duties. Sansa knew she was selling herself short in the marital duty department, as she and Harry were about as hot for each other as lukewarm bath water.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N Listening to Leonard Cohen's "The essentials disk 1" and "Paul Simon" radio on Pandora, while I write this chapter.

The new found interest from Sansa sent Sandor's quiet, boring existence into a tailspin. In the past when he had sorrows from women, he would drown them in drink. Now he did not drink and he did not let anyone, especially beautiful women, close enough to cause him sorrow. Sandor had taken to being "busy" and elsewhere during morning mass, as to avoid Sansa. He missed her, but he was taking his safest course, until he could figure out what to do next. He was hoping Fr. Sam would either not notice (not likely) or be kind enough to refrain from saying anything (so far so good).

Sandor kept busy, preparing the church itself, rectory and grounds for the eventual winter. It was still early autumn, but Sandor wanted to get the outside repairs done before hurricane season hit and it got too wet to do too much and then it would be too cold. While he painted, he had plenty of time to the solitude of his thoughts.

Sandor had been with surprisingly few women, favoring drunken one night stands instead of commitments that could end in his disappointment and heartbreak. He was acutely aware of his disfigurement and built up walls of defense before any war had even been waged. Sandor had been open with Fr. Sam about his violence and anger in the past. Sandor did not have to self medicated with alcohol to soothe his soul anymore. He had a sense of self worth, in his actions; having a place to call his own and a place within the church, not as a parishioner, but as the problem solver fixing things that were broken and making them nice and shiny. Fr. Sam saw the parallel, as he was the problem solver for the soul, mending things that were broken and making them nice and shiny. Fr. Sam had not told anyone his recent thoughts, that perhaps Sansa and Sandor were the instruments needed to make the other whole. However, there was more to each story and Fr. Sam knew to be patient and bide his time.

Sandor was painting and eavesdropping, Sansa was telling Fr. Sam how her fiancé was leaving on a business trip, which might keep him away for about a month. Sandor was trying to gauge Sansa's opinion on this. She was telling Sam this information casually, as if she wasn't saddened by his leaving; it was a matter of fact statement. Fr. Sam could not resist, he warmly welcomed Sansa to join him and Sandor for dinner whenever she would like. Sansa grinned at him and happily agreed. Sandor wondered if Sansa had been fishing for that very invitation. Curious, he thought to himself. He also was surprised when he heard Sansa explain to Fr. Sam that she had free time and would be happy to do any office work that the parish might need. Sam grinned and told her she would be sorry for volunteering.

The following Monday after mass and coffee, there was Sansa bright eyed and bushytailed ready for her first assignment. Fr. Sam had a backlog of old handwritten or typed documents that needed to be retyped and saved on a computer file, so that is what Sansa was doing.

Sandor was taking a break, when he saw Sansa approach him outside. She was smiling and stretching, relieving the kinks in her back from desk work. This was the first time they had been alone since the fainting incident so many weeks past.

"Beautiful weather today." Sansa stated to Sandor, benign conversation.

"Aye" he agreed, "Looks like we're going to have some storms next week, though"

Sansa eyed him quizzically

"Hurricane season," Sandor explained "We get heavy rain and wind. Sometimes the power goes out and the basements get wet, but it's not a big deal. That is why I am doing the roofing and cutting down dead tree branches, if we get a big storm, there is less to clean up afterwards."

"Have you been avoiding me?" Sansa asked bluntly

Sandor blushed and nodded sadly.

Sansa looked sad and hurt and that surprised him. He didn't know what possessed him, but the words spilled out "I'm not used to beautiful women wanting to touch my face or kiss me. You're engaged. I didn't know what to do. So I stayed away trying to figure it out."

Sansa looked at him, wide eyed "I'm so sorry for causing you so much angst. I just thought maybe we could be friends?"

Sandor looked into her eyes, trying to read her soul "Did you mean to be friends before or after you kissed my cheek?" He looked down, not meeting her eyes; he mumbled "I don't think women like you really want to be friends with a man like me. But thank you for your honesty."

Sandor stalked away, cursing to himself. What he said was true to his heart, but not what he really wanted. But what was the point of befriending a woman who was going to marry someone else?


	6. Chapter 6

Fr. Sam watched Sansa attack the keyboard of the computer. He had seen their interaction outside, but not heard what was said. He also knew Sandor was avoiding Sansa. He wasn't going to interfere, but he was worried about each of them in their own right.

"Sansa," Fr. Sam sat down next to her, "Are you alright?"

Sansa looked up, rather horrified that she was projecting her frustrations to a harmless keyboard.

"I can't seem to do anything right by Sandor." She said sadly. "He was honest with me, he has been avoiding me. I feel awful about it. I told him maybe we could be friends and he just about laughed in my face" She was blushing; realizing how ridiculous her conversation sounded to Sandor's perspective.

Fr. Sam sat back and closed his eyes, praying for guidance and choice words. "Sansa, if I am being too bold, tell me and I shall mind my place, but there does seem to be something amiss in your relationship. You don't seem to truly love him. Why are you with him?"

Sansa patted Fr. Sam's arm. "All in due time Father. You are not wrong. I am not mistreated; my virtue is still intact. Our marriage arrangement is one of convenience, financially and socially beneficial to us both. My family had money Harry needed to build his business and I needed someone to look out for me. Now that I am finished with my education, maybe I can begin to do things for myself. I would prefer a marriage based on love and I might be able to look out for myself. Luckily, Harry is in no rush to get to the altar either, he will be travelling frequently in the next several months. He has proven to be a worthy investment and my family's money has grown as has his. I live well." She hesitated, "but I am so lonely. If I am not to have a marriage based on love, I think I at least need some friends."

Fr. Sam smiled gently at Sansa and patted her shoulder. "Consider me your friend and confidant. I am yours." He said sincerely. "Also, "he said, almost as an afterthought, "Don't rule out Sandor." What was unclear to Sansa was whether Fr Sam meant as a friend or as a love.

The week passed, Sandor was less reclusive, but he kept to himself. Fr Sam missed his friend, but knew he needed to work out his inner turmoil alone.

That morning the weather took a turn for the worse, just as Sandor suspected. Sansa was still plugging along with her typing project. She noticed Fr. Sam and Sandor hurrying about.

"What's wrong?" Sansa asked Sandor.

He explained that Gilly's little boy was sick with a high fever, nothing that would kill him, but it was inopportune time with the foul weather approaching. Also, Gilly's husband was away on a presumed bender. It made some things easier as Gilly only had one child to care for when her husband wasn't home. Fr. Sam was going to go to Gilly's house to help her care for her sick child and keep her company during the storm. Sam had shopping bags packed with medicine and food so they would not have to go out. Fr. Sam wanted to get to Gilly's house while the weather was mild. Fr. Sam was known for going to help out his parishioners and staying with them until everything was resolved. There was no impropriety, Sam was a friend to all and took his friendships very seriously. Fr. Sam trusted the care of the rectory and parish to Sandor in these absences.

Fr. Sam had left; Sansa realized Sandor was looking at her.

"Yes?" she asked

"Well," Sandor awkwardly began, "I've closed up the church, and I just have to close up here."

"Oh, you want me to leave." Sansa sighed.

"Well, I guess so, you don't want to be locked in here do you?" he replied hesitantly.

Sansa slowly began to finish up, taking her sweet time, not wanting to go home alone into some storm.

"Where is your car?" Sandor asked

"Oh, I don't have one, I walk"

He looked at her, closing his eyes. "What have you got for hurricane precautions in your house?"

"What do you mean?" Sansa asked quietly.

"For heaven's sake" Sandor said, "Come with me." He turned the computer off, grabbed her bag and pulled her by her hand.

"Where are we going?" Sansa asked, surprised.

"We're going to weather this storm in my apartment. I can't let you go to your house alone. Your fiancé is away, isn't he?"

Sansa nodded.

"Well, you'll be safe and sound with me; I won't let anything bad happen to you."


	7. Chapter 7

A/N I hope this chapter will live up to its M rating. As always, I appreciate my followers and those of you who leave comments. I appreciate all of your opinions and criticisms.

They are standing in Sandor's apartment, wet and cold. As they were leaving the rectory, they saw some lawn furniture that had not been put away. Sandor cursed to himself, as he hurried to put it in the garage. Sansa behind him, helping carry the chairs, they were soaked to the bone. In the few minutes it took them to put the items away, the wind picked up and the rain was torrential.

Sandor opened the door and let Sansa in first. It is a small and cozy studio apartment. He doesn't say much, but goes and gets her a soft towel. "Looks like we're in this for the long haul," He notices her teeth are chattering. "Look, you're going to have to go take a hot shower and I'll get you some dry clothes. You should do that now, because I bet we'll lose power eventually."

Sansa nods, looking around; she sees a wood stove, candles, flashlights, and a hand crank radio. "You've really thought of everything." She compliments.

"Aye, I've got snacks and books too." He grins at her, proud of the compliment. As if he realizes the grin does nothing to improve his looks, he stops and continues talking. "I'm going to start the woodstove, so when the power goes out we can make a hot meal. It'll be like camping indoors."

Sansa heads into the bathroom. It is a basic bathroom, but it has soap and shampoo and she warms up and cleans up. She is humming to herself. She hears a knock at the door. "I am keeping my eyes closed, but I am going to bring you in some dry clothes, and I'll hang the ones you were wearing to dry." Sandor rasps. He places the dry clothes within reach.

Sansa finishes in the shower and towels off. She finds some clothes that are much too big, but very soft, a t-shirt that goes to her mid thigh, a well worn sweatshirt that goes almost to her knees and a pair of hand knit socks. "Oh those church ladies…" Sansa thinks to herself. She realizes all her clothes are gone, even her panties. "Hmmmmm… kind of awkward" she thinks to herself. Not having much of a choice and deciding to be extra careful and modest, Sansa doesn't mention a thing.

Sandor realized that when he took Sansa's wet clothes, he in truth took all of her clothes. He hung up her jeans, shirt, sweater and socks, and Sansa's white lace panties fell out of her jeans and her matching bra was inside her shirt. Sandor, not having many opportunities to touch the fine lingerie of women, was torn between feeling the soft lace on his hands and whipping it away as to not have more lustful thoughts, other than the naked, wet, beautiful woman in his shower. So, he sighed and just hung them up. Then he realized that meant Sansa only had tops and socks on. He groaned and his cock twitched. It was too good to be true, stuck in a hurricane with a girl with no undies on. He went out to find Sansa seated on the couch, wrapped up in a knitted afghan. "Is there anything the church ladies don't knit for you?" Sansa teased. Sandor smiled at her, trying to give his satisfaction of her secret away. "I don't have a TV," Sandor began, "but you can put some music or something on the radio. You can help yourself to any book you'd like. I'm going to take a quick shower. Here," he said, passing her a warm mug "I made you a mug of hot chocolate."

He went into the bathroom. He shut the door, took his wet clothes off and sighed. He was uncomfortably hard; he hoped the shower would help. He stood under the hot water and started to stroke his manhood. He imagined what it would be like to have Sansa's hands on him. They could snuggle under one of the many Afghans and pleasure each other. It had been a very long time since Sandor had been with a woman; not since he became sober and worked here at the church. Even the women before were not companion material. They didn't have any use for each other after the drinks of the night wore off. Sandor thought about kissing Sansa. He suspected she was a virgin. He didn't think he had ever been with a virgin. He imagined how tight she would be. That thought made him come undone. He moaned aloud as he fucked his hand. "Are you ok in there?" There was a concerned knock at the door "Um, I'm ok, just changed the temp. by accident." He pathetically lied. He finished in the shower, feeling a little better, put on dry clothes and joined Sansa on the couch.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N another M rating, hope you'll all enjoy.

Sansa watched Sandor exit the bathroom and as walk to the woodstove to put another log on the fire. There was a loud clap of thunder, gusts of wind and the power flickered. Sansa gasped and pulled an afghan over her head. She peeked out and saw Sandor smiling at her. He passed her a flashlight. "The power is going to go out eventually." He rasped. "Don't worry; we've got everything we need here. You're going to be alright, you know that, don't you?" He lit some candles to prepare so when the power eventually went out, they wouldn't be in pitch darkness.

He sat down on the other end of the couch. "What are we going to do now?" Sansa wondered.

"Are you hungry?" Sandor asked. Sansa shook her head no.

"Would you like more hot chocolate?" He rasped. Again, Sansa shook her head no.

The wind still howled, but the apartment was warm and cozy with the fire going and the candles twinkling merrily...

"Do you play scrabble?" Sansa asked

"I do." Sandor was going to up and find the game.

There was another crash of lightening and then a loud crack of a tree branch snapping.

Sansa screamed and leapt across the couch before Sandor had a chance to stand up. She wrapped her arms around his neck and snuggled into his lap.

Sandor could not believe it; Sansa must be terrified to be sitting in his lap. What woman would willingly seek him for comfort? Especially one not wearing any panties. That was not a conducive thought, he realized, removing her from his lap, before he made her more terrified. He made a show of rearranging her afghans, but in reality, he was trying to adjust himself, so she wouldn't notice his excitement. "Please don't get up," She whispered, sitting next to him, but still hanging onto his arm. He took a deep breath and eased his body back into the couch. She curled up next to his chest; he reflexively put his arm around her. She snuggled in closer. Sansa couldn't remember a time when she had felt safer, more content. Sandors arms were strong and warm, he smelled musky, masculine. She knew no matter what raged outside, Sandor would provide her comfort. She wrapped an arm around his waist, closing her eyes as he pulled the blankets up over her shoulders, covering them both.

Sansa was jolted out of her tranquility by another loud crack of thunder and then the power went off for good. There was the sound of more tree branches cracking.

"How come you're not scared of thunderstorms?" Sansa wondered, "You're not afraid of lightning strikes?"

Sandor couldn't stop himself, from rubbing Sansa's back and stroking her long auburn hair. "No, I'm not afraid of that, or fire" he breathed into her hair.

"Even after all fire did to you." Sansa whispered, amazed that fire wouldn't terrify someone who clearly had been hideously burned.

"Fire didn't cause the scars, my brother did." Sandor said quietly in a sad voice. He had never spoken of what had happened to his face with a woman. "It was a meth explosion;" he began cautiously, "My older brother was cooking it in our basement. It blew up, that's what killed my parents and my little sister. My brother is a monster. I was so angry with him for taking away all I loved, that is why I tried to kill him. To put a stop to his madness. That is why I went to prison, for attempted murder. The jurors never got the whole story. I was so angry and bitter; I was very little help to my public defender. But, now I am here and I've found my own sort of peace."

Sansa was shocked by Sandor's candor and frankness. She looked up into his eyes, put his smooth and his scarred cheeks in her hands and began to kiss him gently.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N Thank you to all who are following and/or leave a review. I would really like to hear your opinions, reviews are most welcomed! I truly appreciate your kind and supportive feedback, it keeps me going!

Sansa had never felt that way about any man, the way she felt for Sandor. His scars had never bothered her, but those eyes; it was those eyes that ate into the core of her soul that unnerved her. At first the man behind those eyes made her nervous. Not really anymore; the more Sansa thought about it, maybe it was about time to be in the company of someone to whom she could be completely honest. She was in dire need of honesty, about herself and her situation. She knew Sandor saw through the guise; and deep down she was grateful.

She was jolted back to reality, but Sandor ending their kiss and removing her from his lap. He looked sad.

"Are you alright?" she asked, snuggling back into him.

"Aye," he sighed, "I just don't make it a habit of kissing another man's woman, even if they initiated it, twice." He looked into her soul with his grey eyes. "Are you going to tell me what's going on?" He rasped gently.

Sansa took a deep breath and nodded. "We don't love each other, Harry and I" she simply stated "At first it was for money, I have some and he needed it, now it's really just an endless engagement."

"That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard." Sandor said gruffly "What is wrong with that man? It makes no sense to me. Who wouldn't make their claim to you? If you were my woman, I would marry you so fast to make sure no one else would ever lay their eyes on you and I would be able to enjoy you as much as possible. There would be no mistake in my devotion." Sandor realized he might have said too much, may have revealed too much of his soul.

Sansa grinned at him, catching his soul baring slip. "Is that the truth now?" She said it in a teasing voice, but was touched by Sandor's honesty.

"I don't plan on being a church handyman forever" Sandor whispered, "As long as we're an hour in to this hurricane and it isn't likely we'll be going anywhere until tomorrow and I've already let slip some secrets I have not told anyone, ever, why stop now?" He smiled a little, "I don't know what I am going to do, but I'm more than this." And he gestured to his modest apartment complete with knitted accessories "This is just a stepping stone while I become the person I want to be."

Sansa, still warm and snuggly, curled deeper into Sandor's chest, wrapped his arm back around her, "I feel the same way about my life right now too. Harry and I needed each other, but we both knew, deep down, we would not go through with a marriage; but now that I am here, I realize that I want and deserve so much more. I don't know what it is, but that is why I come to mass, to pray that I find what it is that I am looking for."

"That business about being friends" Sandor couldn't help but say it with a sneer "Is that what you really want from me?"

Sansa took a few minutes to compose her thoughts. "No, not really, I mean yes, I want to be your friend, but that isn't what I mean exactly. I want more. I have never been so bold with any man before. I try to engage you with flirting, being coy, but you see right through me. When you were avoiding me it made me feel badly. What did I do wrong?"

"You belong to another man. You still do, even if it isn't with your heart. You can't kiss me or lead me on when you also belong to someone else." Sandor said sadly, he couldn't, wouldn't have his heart broken. He would hold firm, stand his ground. Maybe Sansa would leave Harry. All Sandor knew what that he had to stand firm to his principles, because that is really all he had to lose.

Sansa nodded, appreciating her situation from Sandor's perspective.

A tear ran down Sansa's cheek. She was ashamed of herself, for being so inconsiderate. She could feel her lower lip start to tremble, her sight grew fuzzy. "I won't cry, I just won't." she thought to herself. Then she realized she was falling apart, seated on the well worn couch of a man who basically shot down her advances, called out her moral character, while she was wrapped up in hand knit church lady blankets, while not wearing any underwear. The first blessed time she had been alone with a grown man, not wearing undies, she was being chastised and felt like a fool, a fool, a failure and a jerk. She couldn't help it as the tears fell freely and the sound that came out was a cross between a sob and a mirthless laugh.


	10. Chapter 10

Sandor watched with horror as Sansa fell apart. He really thought that she might vomit. As the tears fell and the hysteria started, she covered her head and whole body with the Afghans. She was a weepy mess, and it was all Sandor's fault. He awkwardly patted her, and then as she kept crying, he wrapped her up in a big, bear hug. She finally stopped sobbing; it was just big gulping gasps for air.

"I'm sorry I hurt your feelings" Sandor whispered to the pile of afghans which had become Sansa.

The pile still snuggled closer to him, gulping still, "I'm so sorry I was so selfish." She started to cry again.

Sandor tenderly found Sansa under all the blankets and pulled her out, he gently wiped the tears away with his massive hands. She laid her head on his chest, listening to his heart beat. "Sansa," Sandor began, "Let's compromise, let's start by being friends."

Sansa looked up into his grey eyes, with her big blue (bloodshot) eyes and smiled at him.

The lightning blazed and the thunder rolled and they both closed their eyes and hugged each other.

They awoke from their afternoon nap, legs entwined. Sansa's fiery hair was in Sandor's mouth; her arms were wrapped around his waist. One of Sandor's arms was wrapped securely between Sansa's pert breasts and his other was on her thigh. Sansa awoke first, warm and happy, nuzzling into Sandor's chest and neck. Sandor became unconsciously aroused and began to fondle a breast and rub up Sansa's thigh.

Then they froze, removed their touching body parts and sat up, looking sheepish. Sandor smoothed the wild hair of a horrified and guilty looking Sansa. He rewrapped her tight in a blanket and hugged her gently. "Maybe I should just give up and take you all for myself during this hurricane." He said as much to himself as he said to her.

"So you do like me?" Sansa whispered, hopefully.

Sandor looked at her, incredulous. "You think this all is because I am not physically attracted to you?"

Sansa nodded, in her naïveté, not sure what else would cause Sandor to not want her to kiss him.

Sandor ran his hands through his hair. He couldn't believe someone as beautiful as Sansa could so insecure. "Before I came here, before I got sober, I was not a nice person. I was violent, hateful, and angry. Now I am just occasionally angry. I try so hard to do the right thing. Every morning I wake up, I chose to not be an alcoholic. I have to make an active choice each day Sansa, to not have a drink. Some days are easier than others. I have found in the past 2 years my choice not to drink is easier if I do not have moral ambiguity. For the most part that isn't a problem; things are usually easily black and white for me. I chose not to drink alcohol; I chose to do what is morally right. You are a shade of grey. I am not sure what is right and what is wrong. How can I say no to you, which is what seems like the morally right thing to do, but I feel and you seem to as well, that we are drawn to each other. Times like this I really could use a drink. It makes things much more difficult for me. If you were not engaged to someone else, it would be easier. But that isn't the case." Sandor explained sadly.

Sansa looked at Sandor, understanding sinking in. "But my engagement is false."

"Aye, it might be, but you still live with another man, you wear his ring. That is not what I want for me. Sansa, I have finally come to the place in my life, where I want more than that for me. If you want changes in your life Sansa, you're going to have to make hard choices like I have. I can be your friend and support you."

"But we won't be more than friends until I make the hard choices I need to make." Sansa said.

"Aye" Sandor nodded, one of the hardest choices he had to make that week.

"But you think I am pretty?" Sansa asked shyly

"Oh Sansa, if you only knew." Sandor said wistfully. "If you only knew."


	11. Chapter 11

A/N Thank you so much for the reviews! I appreciate you taking the time to share your opinions!

The rain continued to pelt the house, it seemed as though the rain was falling sideways.

Sandor and Sansa were still sitting on the couch; it was getting darker, as it does in late the late afternoon, especially in the autumn season. Sandor stood, stretched his massive back and arms. He walked over to put another few logs on the fire and light some more candles. The irony of the very romantic setting made him question his willpower, who was Sandor Clegane becoming? There was a beautiful woman, whose panties were on a drying rack, wanted him and he had turned her down. His cock twitched, internal groan. Sandor put water in a kettle on the wood stove "Tea?" he asked Sansa? She nodded, still in a cocoon on the couch. "Do you like beef stew?" He asked

"You made beef stew?" Sansa was surprised

Sandor chuckled "No, the church ladies and Gilly feed me very well. They keep my fridge and freezer stocked. I just have to heat up whatever they bring me."

"I like beef stew" Sansa smiled

Sandor put 2 portions of stew in a cast iron pan on the stove to warm up and a tin of homemade rolls to warm up as well. "Not bad for no power" Sansa was impressed with the feast.

"Wait until after dinner and I'll pop you some popcorn"

"Really? How do you do that?" Sansa was curious

"Just like jiffy pop, but I use disposable pie tins, it works great." Sandor was proud to show off his indoor camping skills.

"Sandor, do you think my clothes are dry yet?"

"Aye, I'll bet they are, you're going to dress for dinner?" He winked.

Sansa went into the bathroom and got herself pulled back together. She reflected on the afternoon. She hadn't realized the depth of her feelings for Sandor. The more she thought about the turn of events, the more pleased she was the way things DID NOT transpire. She realized Sandor not only respected her, but he was committed and loyal to the idea of engagements and matrimony. That was a rare quality in men these days. He respected her almost more than she respected herself. Sansa sighed, she didn't think her behavior was so much promiscuous or wanton, but more a reflection of her loneliness and her desire not to lose a good thing when she saw it. Sandor's compromise of friendship while she sorted out her complicated personal situation was not a rebuke, but more the acknowledgement that Sandor would wait for her and he would not accept anything less than all of her. With that realization, Sansa was no longer ashamed of her behavior, but reassured and confidant that she could do her part to make things work and to get out of her own way and remover herself from the stagnant path she was currently in.

Sandor watched Sansa come out of the bathroom noticeably refreshed. She sat at his kitchen table and fingered through the text books he had there. "Look at all these architecture books." She excitedly began to thumb through them in earnest. "Did you know I was an art history major?"

"I did not." Sandor said very interested while he was busy stirring dinner, making tea and moving things around to set the table. "I'm taking classes at the community college; some history, some architecture, and some math."

"What is your major?" Sansa asked

"I'm still undecided. I learned carpentry in jail, but I'd like to be more than a handyman. I could be a general contractor; I really prefer to work for myself. That is why I am happy here, I tell Fr. Sam what I think the priorities are for things to be repaired and he gives me a budget and I fix things and make them better than before. For example, when something needs to be rebuilt or repainted Fr. Sam and I talk about a theme, I then read up on the style and try to duplicate it, so it fits the theme. I really enjoy that. We've done a few renovations in the rectory and have picked a different theme for each room. The same with the different gardens around the parish. Next summer I think I am going to put in a Japanese garden, make it Zen and peaceful for meditation." Sandor realized he was gushing. Good lord, he had spilled his soul to this woman. She was grinning at him, almost as excited with the idea as he was.

Sandor served the meal. They didn't realize how hungry they were until half of the meal was consumed and they realized they had not continued their conversation.

"Have you considered putting in Cherry Blossom trees in the Zen Garden?" Sansa asked, giving his garden project a name.

"I did not, that is a great idea. I have a book on Japanese landscaping, somewhere in this pile." he shuffled through books; finding it and leaving it near the top.

They talked animatedly about different ideas and how to improve the gardens that were already in existence. Sansa cleared the plates, leaving them in the sink.

Sandor had made another pot of tea and was putting a pile of books near the couch, he moved the candles back over to the coffee table, and they were illuminated well enough to see the colorful pictures. They sat shoulder to shoulder next to each other and discussed a "Monet theme" near the duck pond, which already had lillypads. Sansa thought there was enough room in the sunny side lot to make a Van Gogh Sunflower patch.

Sandor looked at the beautiful animated woman sitting next to him "I'm sorry I thought it would be a poor idea to be friends. I was wrong." He couldn't help but wrap his arm around Sansa and give her a hug. It was almost too good a thought that things would work out in his favor for once. He couldn't resist burying his face in her hair, he was the happiest, and contented he had been in as long as he could remember. He felt cared for and secure. There was an especially ferocious gust of wind that shook the house. Sansa involuntarily shivered. Sandor ran his gigantic hands up and down her shoulders to warm her up. Her hand patted his hand, thankful for the reassurance of safety and security. He noticed that she no longer was wearing her engagement ring. He sighed, not sure what to make, but thinking it was a first step, if nothing else.

He cupped her chin in his huge hand and kissed her chastely on the forehead and went to start the popcorn, smiling to himself.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N Thank you again for all the reviews and support! You keep me going! Rated M for innuendo and mild smut.

Sansa watched him pop the popcorn, she felt reassured with his kiss, even if it was chaste, but caring. She was glad she thought to take off the ring.

Sandor sat back down next to her, she ate the popcorn too fast and it was hot, she choked a little, Sandor whacked her on the back. She snuggled back next to him; he didn't seem to mind the closeness.

The storm still raged, they could hear trees and leaves swaying, a tree branch cracking here and there. The hurricane was still going on strong.

"It should let up by morning," Sandor began, "we'll go clean up outside tomorrow, it will give us something to do; it might be a little while before we get the power back."

Sansa hadn't really considered the whole ramifications of the hurricane.

"We can go to your house, get you some things and then you can stay here until the power is back." Sandor said kindly

"You wouldn't mind?" Sansa was really happy about Sandor's offer.

"Of course I wouldn't mind." Sandor grinned, just a little bit, and put his arm around her shoulder. "You know I like you very much." He said this as though she might not know.

Sansa smiled up into his face, he thought his heart would melt. He wanted to kiss her, he wanted to throw her down on the couch and ravish her. There were so many ideas running through his mind, so he leaned in and gave her a nose nuzzle, an Eskimo kiss if you will, and tweaked her chin. Then he scooted back, lay down on the couch and swung his legs and feet into her lap. He couldn't believe how chaste he had become.

Sansa kept grinning at him. They were ridiculous. Their sexual tension was making them resort to goofy displays of affection. Sansa didn't know what else to do, so she just happily munched popcorn.

They both were quiet for a while, the candles burned down, it started to get chilly, and they were both yawning. Sandor stood up and went to add more logs to the fire. "We should probably go to bed soon." He began. "I hate to say it, after I made such a big deal about you being engaged and all," he started mumbling and talking really fast, "It's going to be cold tonight, why don't we sleep in my bed." Sandor had decided it would be worse for him to sleep on the lumpy couch. They would be more comfortable and better off just sharing his big bed.

Sansa was getting tired; it had been a very exciting day. She got into bed, clothes and all. Sandor extinguished the candles and climbed in next to her. He had the sinking suspicion that this was the first time Sansa had ever slept alone with a man. She was tossing and turning. After a few minutes, Sandor reached out and touched her shoulder "what's wrong?" He hoped she wouldn't ask him to sleep on the blasted couch. "Well," She began, "I'm not comfortable"

Sandor was lying on his back; he was awkward and uncomfortable too. Their act of being chaste and appropriate was not creating a good night's sleep. Sansa whispered, "I can't sleep in my jeans."

"What?" Sandor gulped.

"My jeans, they aren't comfy."

Sandor was at a loss for words, he was really torn, and frankly he would prefer all of her clothes to be on the floor.

He sighed. He smiled. It was like his dreams were coming true. Yet, all he wanted was to be respectful. It was like the universe was catapulting him into Sansa's delectable, virginal pants.

"If you take your pants off I can't make any promises about what happens." Sandor sighed again.

He could see the whites of Sansa's teeth in the dark as she smiled. "I'm really not trying to tease you." She said earnestly.

"I know, jeans are not especially comfy to sleep in, that is why I changed into soft pants when we came in from outside."

He heard Sansa shimmying and rustling the covers, and then the plop as her pants fell to the floor. That was what made Sandor's cock twitch.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N Warning, if you find fictional smut offensive, please don't read this!

They lay in awkward silence for a few minutes until Sandor finally said, "You're just going to have to get comfortable"

Sansa snuggled right up next to him, not missing a beat, afraid he would change his mind. She rested her head in the crook of his arm and wrapped an arm over his chest. She got nice and cozy and settled down.

Sansa's restfulness did not have the same settling effect on Sandor. Her smell was intoxicating, her hair tickling his face, her warm breath on his neck, her arm over him, and her breasts flush with his torso, her naked thighs touching his pant leg, her naked feet touching his bare ankle.

He was rock hard and there was nothing he could do. He couldn't roll toward or away from her. He just lay still and breathed in her scent. Is this what it would be like every night when she left her fiancé, he dared to hope? That thought did not help the hardness in Sandor's pants. He listened as Sansa finally dozed off and her breathing became slower and deeper. She was rubbing his stomach and chest as she slept. He felt like a big, giant teddy bear. She was caressing him and she had no idea, her hand snaked up and under his shirt, her hands warm in his thick chest hair. She rolled toward him, still keeping her hand on his muscular stomach. She moaned a little and snuggled closer, if that was even possible. He gave up and rolled toward her, readjusting, as to not poke her. Her arm went around to his back, they were hugging, all cuddled up. He could feel her bare back under his hand as her shirt rode up. It was divine torture. Sandor closed his eyes and he fell asleep, the happiest he had been in as long as he could remember.

He woke up to sun streaming through the window. The storm had passed. The power was still out, but it had the makings for a beautiful day. The sunlight reflected in Sansa's auburn hair. They were still tangled; Sandor realized Sansa's naked leg was between his legs. He had to get out of bed to relieve himself. He extracted himself without waking the beautiful woman next to him. He stoked the stove, which had gone out during the night. Soon, he could get some coffee going. He poured some water from a jug into a big pot and put it on the stove to boil. Sandor went into the bathroom, bringing another jug of water with him. He washed his face, brushed his teeth, but he still was uncomfortable. He peeked out and saw Sansa was still fast asleep, smiling in her sleep. She was so beautiful. How could Sandor dare to hope and dream that she might possibly want to be involved with him? He was proud of his willpower, not ravishing a stunning young woman, mostly naked in his bed. He closed and locked the bathroom door. He stood and couldn't help himself as he thought of Sansa's hands rubbing his body. She had no idea the effect she had on him. The thought helped him solve his "problem"; it didn't take him long at all to find his relief as he fucked his hand. It had been 2 years since he had been with a woman. Sobriety had killed the fun of one night stands. Sandor had chosen the unintentional chastity that accompanied his sobriety. Normally, he didn't miss the false intimacies, but now knowing there was the potential for an actual mutual, caring relationship, the ache for want of touch was almost crippling. He came quickly and he felt a little better. He cleaned up and left the bathroom to make some breakfast. Sansa was still asleep, but rolling around, he could tell she would wake up soon. The coffee was boiling; he heated a pan with some butter and warmed up some banana bread. He grabbed some grapes and brought Sansa breakfast in bed.


	14. Chapter 14

The next few days passed in a blur. The damage was not extensive, but the combination of no power and many elderly parishioners to assist, Sandor and Sansa kept very busy. Fr. Sam had come back to the rectory that morning. He was pleased to see that Sansa had stayed with Sandor and was initially shocked by Sansa's whisper of Sandor's chaste and gallant behavior.

Sandor had taken Sansa back to her house to get fresh clothes and pajamas. They had agreed she would stay with him to help and for her own well being until the power was back. Her house was unscathed; it didn't take them long to clean up the fallen branches. They left with the necessities and didn't look back.

Gilly and her son were back at the rectory. The little boy was resting and recuperating comfortably, and Gilly was happy to make meals to use up the food before it had a chance to spoil. Sandor and Sansa worked hard, so they happily ate Gilly's good cooking then visited with Gilly and Fr. Sam after dinner and retired early. They were so exhausted from the hard work that their intimacies were no longer such a distraction. Sandor enjoyed falling asleep with Sansa wrapped around him. He was secretly hoping the power would stay out longer, because when the power came back, life would be back to normal.

Three days later the power came back on, which really was a blessing because their supplies were dwindling, their clothes were filthy and they were in dire need of a bath.

Sandor drove Sansa back to her house and noticed a new car in the driveway. "Harry's back" Sansa replied to Sandor's raised eyebrow.

They walked to the house, the front door was unlocked, and it looked like Harry had just arrived.

"Harry, I'm glad to see you survived the storm! I didn't know you were back." Sansa greeted him.

"Oh," Harry smiled, but looked at his filthy fiancée curiously, "I got back the night before the hurricane hit, but I stayed at the airport hotel. They have a generator, so I thought I would stay there. Looks like I made a good choice, you're filthy. How long has it been since you last showered?" He commented casually.

Sandor growled, "You stayed in the luxury of a hotel and didn't fucking call or come get Sansa?"

Harry looked taken aback "And who might you be?"

Sansa looked back and forth between the two men. She didn't want trouble, but seeing her chance, this was really as good a time as any.

"Harry," She began, "This is my friend Sandor."

Now it was Harry's turn to raise his eyebrows, he eyed the dirty luggage in Sandor's arms, realization that his fiancée had ridden out the storm with this beast of a man. The nasty look the man was giving him, confirmed his suspicion of the man's feelings toward Sansa. It was clear from their body language that they were very comfortable with each other.

"Sansa," Harry began, "You mean to tell me you have spent the storm with this man?" He would have been incredulous, if not for the gentle looks Sansa was giving Sandor. He could tell that their feelings, whatever they were for each other, were clearly mutual.

"She certainly did, " Sandor interrupted, not giving Sansa a chance to reply, "She has been very busy the past few days helping out at the church and taking care of elderly parishioners. You should be very proud of Sansa and ashamed of yourself for not giving her a second thought."

Harry opened and shut his mouth a few times, no words came out.

Sandor spoke again, "Sansa you can stay here or you can get your things and I'll take you back to the church."

Harry looked at them both strangely. "You're going to leave Sansa, you just came home?"

Sansa said in a strong, brave voice, "This is no home to me. Home is where I am valued and cherished. I am not angry Harry, but the charade is over. It is clear that you don't love me or care for me the way that I need and deserve." She turned to Sandor, "There isn't much here that I need or want, let me scoot to my room to get my clothes."

Sandor stood menacingly by the door, waiting for Harry to provoke him. When that didn't happen, Sandor looked at him and said quietly, "You're not going to even fight for her?"

Harry looked surprised and shook his head. "She has never looked at me the way she looks at you. There is no point fighting, for me, it's a lost cause." Harry looked a little sad.

Sandor shook his head, baffled but rather pleased with the turn of events. He went up the stairs to help Sansa carry down her bags.

He put them in the car, while Sansa said goodbye to Harry. She returned his ring and house key. They hugged and parted, Sandor could see Harry was more offended by the 3 days without a shower, more than the fact Sansa was leaving him with another man. He shook his head, opened the door for her and they drove back to the church without a backward glance.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N Thank you, thank you so much for reading this fanfic. Those of you who follow and comment, you have my utmost appreciation. Your kind words are motivation. Thank you so much.**

**The characters belong to GRRM.**

**This chapter definitely has earned it's "m" rating. So, if you are offended by fictitious smut, skip this chapter.**

The ride back to the church was very quiet. Both Sansa and Sandor were deep in their own thoughts. Sandor parked in his usual parking spot by his apartment. He turned his head to look at the amazing woman sitting next to him. He was surprised by her bravery and resolve. She saw an opportunity and took it. Sandor was impressed and proud of her.

Sansa looked at him, mildly sheepish, "Where do we go from here?"

Sandor looked into her beautiful blue eyes. "Let's start by getting cleaned up. You can take a shower and I'll get some laundry started."

Fr. Sam watched curiously as Sandor carried Sansa's bags in one hand, while the other arm was draped protectively over her shoulder, as they walked into the apartment.

Sansa took some fresh clothes out of one bag and went into the bathroom. She heard Sandor ask her to set out the dirty clothes she was removing so he could put them in the wash. She did as she was asked and ran the shower. She couldn't believe how she had changed her own life in less than a week. She got into the shower, the hot steamy water felt so good. She washed her face and her hair, and then started to scrub her body. This was the first time she was free, she had made her own choice for her well being and happiness. Her mind wandered, what if Sandor didn't think it appropriate for her to stay here with him, what if he didn't want a long term commitment? She gasped what had she done? The realization of her freedom and all the pros and cons and all of the bottled up feelings she had been repressing came out, she started to cry and couldn't stop.

Sandor was sorting dirty clothes and he decided he may as well change his bed sheets; there was nothing nicer than being clean and climbing into a bed with fresh sheets. The crying snapped him out of his laundry thoughts. He heard deep gasps and sobs coming from the shower.

He went to the bathroom door; luckily Sansa had not locked it. There she was, standing in the shower, sobbing. She looked bedraggled and pitiful, like a little bird that was caught in a rain storm. "Little Bird, are you alright?" Sandor rasped gently. Sansa's reply was a low howl of despair and sadness. Sandor didn't know what to do. Clearly the emotional baggage had caught up to Sansa. Truth be told, he was so distressed by her cries, he didn't immediately notice her nakedness. She looked up into his eyes "Do you want me to go?" Sandor was confused. "No, I think you should finish your shower. He grabbed the soap and began to wash Sansa's back for her. He rubbed his soapy hands over her shoulders, she was still facing him. Sansa hiccupped and gulped, "No, I mean, am I going to stay here with you? I've never truly been on my own before. What am I going to do?" she asked him, still trying not to panic. That is when Sandor realized why Sansa was upset. "Little Bird, you are going to stay here with me as long as you want to." Sandor soothed, it was almost too good to be true. Sansa didn't want to leave him.

"Do you think Fr. Sam will mind, it's improper for us to live together unmarried."

"Well," said Sandor, taking a deep breath, "I am not personally concerned with the propriety of the church. We can live in sin, we can live together without the sin, or we could get married. I will do whatever makes you happy."

The smile that came across Sansa's face took the breath away from Sandor. He leaned down and kissed Sansa on the lips, running his hands through her hair and down her back. "What I can't figure out, is why a beautiful, smart woman like you wants to stay here with me?"

"Join me in the shower and I'll explain to you why?" Sansa grinned.

Sandor couldn't help himself. He pulled his clothes off and joined Sansa under the water. He hugged her close, running his hands down to her bottom. She had a spectacular ass. It was firm and high. He squeezed it. She was still grinning, took a step back and looked at him. "You are the first person who has been interested in me for me, not for money or power or my looks." She said seriously.

She grabbed the bar of soap and began to lather Sandor's hairy chest. "You are really big." She whispered. Sandor wondered if she was referring to any body part in general. He was enjoying their intimacy, but trying not to overwhelm her. Sandor held her shoulders and looked down her body, drinking in the sight. He gently cupped her small, pert breasts and looked into her eyes for permission. She nodded. He ran his thumb and forefinger over her small pink nipples, watching them respond to his touch. He ran one hand down to her hip, in a gentle caress. She shuddered with pleasure and brought one of her hands up to his scarred cheek. "Be gentle?" she asked quietly. Sandor responded by kissing her lips gently. Her lips parted for him, he ran a tongue over her bottom lip, sucking and nibbling it slowly, loving the way she tasted in his mouth and felt in his hands. She pulled closer to him, gasping when she felt his rock hard, throbbing cock pressed between their bellies.

"Aye, I'll be gentle Little Bird." Sandor rasped into her mouth. "I'll keep you safe. You have nothing to fear."

Sansa nodded, running a soapy hand down between them. She was so curious about Sandor's cock. It was really big. She grasped it. "Rub it," he moaned. She was eager to please.

They stopped kissing, she was watching with curiosity as her hand slip up and down the shaft. She was impressed her touch was the cause of so much pleasure. "Harder." Sandor whispered his fortune too good to be true. "I won't last long, you feel too good." They both grinned at each other. She jerked him off in earnest, surprised by the ferocity in which he came, his hips jerked, his eyes rolled back in his head, and he yelled in delight as his seed spurted in the shower. When he finished, he looked exhausted. Sansa grinned at him accusingly, "The first night I stayed here, during the storm, and you didn't actually slip in the shower, did you?"

"Guilty" Sandor replied "The secret is out, now you know the effect you have on me."


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N Thank you, thank you so much for reading this fanfic. Those of you who follow and comment, you have my utmost appreciation. Your kind words are motivation. Thank you so much.**

**Mari88, your review cracked me up, I laughed out loud! I hope this chapter will live up to your expectations.**

**The characters belong to GRRM.**

**This chapter definitely has earned it's "m" rating. So, if you are offended by fictitious smut, skip this chapter.**

Sandor rinsed off and grabbed a fluffy towel, he dried himself off and then helped Sansa out of the shower. He wrapped her in another fluffy towel and then scooped her up and carried her to the bed.

Sansa held on to Sandor's neck, running her hands through his soft chest hair. She loved the way he smelled, musky, totally masculine, like fresh laundry and sex. He lay her down carefully on the bed, toweled her off and covered her with the fresh linen. He kept his towel knotted around his waist and lay down next to her on top of the covers. The sun was streaming into the room with early afternoon light. Sandor rolled away and gazed at the woman he had loved from afar. She smiled at him, uncertain where the new intimacy was going to take them.

Sandor took in the sight of the lovely woman, he moved closer, rubbing her jaw with his hand, caressing her face and her lips. He ran his fingers through her hair. They kept their eyes open and gazed at one another. Sandor started to kiss Sansa gently, but passionately. He realized he had a hunger, to make certain she knew he didn't want her for a platonic roommate; after the incident in the shower, there was no way Sandor was going to go back to being "just friends". There was also no way any other man would stake a claim to his Sansa.

His kisses were more aggressive, he was holding her to him tightly, while he parted her lips with his tongue, tasting her, teasing her, giving her an idea of the things to come, as he brought his tongue in and out of her mouth. He sucked on her bottom lip, nipping it a little. She kissed him with equal passion in return. He brought his mouth down and took a nipple in his mouth. He squeezed her breasts, gently with his hands, while he teased the pink bud with his tongue. He demonstrated what he would do to her clit, when he was fortunate enough to be granted entrance to her sweetest spot. Perhaps Sansa didn't know that Sandor was mirroring what he had in mind to do to her throbbing pearl, but never in her life had she felt so alive. Her body was tingly and throbbing. The ache between her thighs was almost unbearable. Sansa had never really explored her own body, just a touch here and there and stopping before it became too much.

Sandor was amazed watching this beautiful creature writhe under his hands. She was like an over tuned instrument that the strings would snap off the minute it was strummed. Sandor grinned to himself, if this was the effect of kisses only on her mouth and breasts, she wouldn't take too long to come at all. He kept kissing her mouth and her breasts while curious fingers found their way under the covers and between Sansa's legs. He was shocked that she was sopping wet and her hips bucked to him, even though all he did was run a soft hand from the front of her pussy to the back. He stopped kissing her, because he wanted to watch her face as his fingers parted her slippery folds and felt pure wetness. She grinded her womanhood into his hand, he needed her to slow down. She was a sight to behold. Her eyes were closed; she was concentrating on the sensations. She had spread her legs wantonly, in careless abandon. Sandor kept his towel tightly wrapped and lowered himself between her legs. He licked her thighs while he spread her lips, admiring her delicate pearl. He couldn't stop himself, he licked her top to bottom, and she ground her pussy into his face. He loved how she tasted, sweet and salty all at once. He massaged her thighs, while he quick sucked her clit, her hips arched and she moaned, grinding into his face, squeezing his head with her thighs. He held her thighs down with both hands and licked and sucked, making her scream when he stuck his tongue into her wet honey hole. He used one finger to rub her clit, while he fucked her sweet spot with his tongue. He could tell she wouldn't last long, she was growling, he could feel her entire body throbbing from the sensation. When she released, Sandor didn't stop sucking or licking or rubbing. She moaned and thrashed and jerked in sweet release. When she finally stopped climaxing, she was crying. Her eyes were dazed. Tears streamed down her face, but she was grinning. Then she started to laugh. It was the most beautiful thing Sandor had ever seen. "I felt that in my teeth." Sansa gasped, surprised. "Is it like that for everyone?" She wondered aloud.

"Only the lucky ones" Sandor replied, curling up next to her and closing his eyes.


	17. Chapter 17

A/N these characters belong to GRRM, I write for my own entertainment, not for profit. Forgive my writers block. Ha, time to form complete thoughts, let alone write chapters, is nonexistent when you have small children.

Chapter 17

Sansa curled up next to Sandor, running her hands through his soft chest hair. "You're like a bear" she giggled and snuggled deeper into the crook of his arm. Sandor stroked her bare skin and smiled, admiring her, the flush of her cheeks making her all the more desirable. Sansa ran her hands along his massive chest, following the dark thatch of hair that ran down his body. "You'll keep me warm this winter?"

Sandor realized she was asking a question, as to what would become of her, now that she had cut her ties with Harry. Sandor rolled towards her, keeping her enveloped in his strong arms. He looked at her seriously. "You know I meant everything I said before," He rasped. "What is mine is yours. We can do this however you want. Whatever makes you happy Little Bird. I am sure Fr. Sam will come find us later in the day and want to know what is going on. You know he care about you too, just differently than I do." Sandor whispered in his grating voice. He nuzzled Sansa's nose with his. He closed his eyes and leaned his face into her hair.

"Do you want to get married?" Sansa asked

"Is that a proposal?" Sandor teased

Sansa blushed, realizing she was being so forward, she sputtered, "I merely meant to know if marriage was something you'd ever dreamed of, considered."

"Little Bird," Sandor began gently, realizing her had made her uncomfortable, "I'm an unpleasant, under employed, recovering alcoholic with a criminal record and an ugly face. No, I have never really considered marriage. That is, because until I met you, there was no one I wanted to marry. I love you Little Bird. You make me want to be a better man."

Fresh tears were flowing down Sansa's cheeks. She was touched by Sandor's honesty and realistic assessment of himself. She knew he spoke true.

"I love you too." She said. They embraced and fell asleep.

They woke to the sound of loud knocking. Sandor climbed out of bed and put on a pair of pants. He closed his bedroom door. He walked to the front door and saw it was Fr. Sam knocking.

Sandor let him in, greeting him. "I hope I am not disturbing anything?" Sam said, eyeing the large man in front of him, half dressed with messy hair and sleepy eyes.

"We have had an eventful afternoon," He began. The two men eyed the bedroom where they swore they heard the tiniest of snickers. Fr. Sam shook his head, disbelieving his ears; Sandor continued "When I brought Sansa home we met Harry. Things did not go as planned and now her engagement to him is broken."

Fr. Sam looked curious. "And she is now recovering from the events… resting in your bedroom?" Sam gently questioned.

Sandor looked as abashed as he could, which, frankly wasn't very much. "Well, yes. I had to cheer her up. A nap did the trick, plus, we've been together for a few days, what's one more nap?"

Fr. Sam did not say a word, merely raised an eyebrow. Sandor chose to ignore him and busied himself by making tea.

Sansa had dressed and come to join them. Fr. Sam was quick to notice Sansa looked more radiant than ever. It looked as though the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders. He questioned her more about the events of the day, being sensitive to her feelings.

By the time tea was over, Fr. Sam could clearly see things were going in the right direction for his two dear friends. He also realized they didn't have a great idea how to get to the next step of their relationship.

"If I may be so bold," Fr. Sam began, "I have an opinion on this situation."

Sandor and Sansa looked at their friend with interest. "Please, go ahead" Sansa said kindly

"Well, I'll be frank," Sam said, eyeing Clegane, wanting to be clear but not provoke the big man "It is obvious to me that you two are well matched. You are very different, but you complement each other. Sansa, you are an intelligent and proper woman, you have grown up expecting marriage and babies."

Sansa nodded in agreement, blushing at the ideas of babies with Sandor.

Sam carefully continued "Sandor, you have made great strides in the past 2 years. You should be proud of yourself. You are a fierce and loyal man. You also are still tackling yourself loathing issues."

Sandor's eyes narrowed at talk of his insecurities, but nodded in agreement.

Encouraged, Sam continued. "So, we all agree that you would ultimately like to marry one another?"

The both replied "Yes."

"I could marry you tomorrow," Sam began. He saw Sansa grinning. "But I have a suggestion,"

He watched Sandor scowl and Sansa's grin drop and she cocked her head in question  
"There is no rush." Then he thought back to seeing Sandor half naked with mussed hair "Or is there?" he began.

Sandor laughed aloud, grinning wickedly while Sansa looked mortified at the implication.

"Fr. Sam," Sansa replied, blushing furiously "My virtue is still intact! Sandor is an honorable man." She insisted.

"Very well," Fr. Sam smiled gently and patted her hand, "Then I suggest Sansa move into the rectory. She can have a suite that was once used for the nuns of the convent. We shall dine together at meal times, as we usually do. Sansa, perhaps you wish to find employment in your field? It may be time for both of you to broaden your horizons. I am in no means asking you to leave. If you wish, you may remain here after you marry. But I am under no illusions that the life as a church care taker is the one Sandor has planned. I am not sure he has even thought about a life beyond employment and shelter here. To be true to yourselves, you need a little space to grow individually before you can grow together as a couple."

Sandor and Sansa reluctantly agreed, seeing the truth in Fr. Sam's words about taking things slow and cautious.

Sam continued "Please join me for dinner in a half hour. Have one last night together here and then tomorrow Sandor can help you move into your new suite."


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

"Sansa," Fr. Sam began, "Do you think that teaching might be something you'd like to pursue?"

Sansa chewed and swallowed, considering this new option. "Well, I do like children and education would be an easier fit with my art history background. " She replied animatedly.

"Tomorrow, you should go and apply to be a substitute teacher, then you can try it out and if you like it, you can work toward a teaching certification." Fr. Sam told her. "I'll write you a wonderful reference."

Sansa beamed, doubly delighted when lemon cakes were served for dessert. Things were really starting to look up for her.

After dinner, Fr. Sam showed Sansa her new chambers. It was very bright and spacious. The suite was basically the third floor. The first floor of the rectory was where the parish offices were, the second floor was Fr. Sam's suite and a large guest room for visiting priests. Sansa's suite was on the third floor, it has a large sitting room, desk and fireplace, a smaller bedroom and private bathroom. It was modest, but spacious. There was another guest room and private bath on that floor, as well. Sansa could hardly contain her delight. "Thank you so much Fr. Sam, this will do splendidly, until we marry." She said grinning at Sandor. Sandor had resumed his usual surly demeanor. Fr. Sam was not put off, recognizing that his friend must be struggling with the surprising new developments. Sansa was so excited; she didn't seem to notice anything amiss.

"Tomorrow you will help me move my things here?" she asked Sandor. He nodded. Fr. Sam patted him reassuringly on the back. They made their way back down the stairs and Fr. Sam bid them goodnight.

He closed the door and watched as Sandor offered his lady his arm, which she happy accepted and smiled lovingly up into his scowling face. He escorted her across the property, back to his apartment, their last night together until their wedding night.

He turned on some lights and put another log on the fire. "Cuppa tea?" he rasped

"Oh, yes please," Sansa said sitting on the couch and covering up with an afghan.

As Sandor brooded and puttered while waiting for the kettle to boil, Sansa realized how quiet he had been since the marriage conversation with Fr. Sam.

Sandor brought over a steaming mug of tea and sat on the couch next to her. The silence was palpable.

"What's bothering you?" she asked, concerned.

Sandor shook his head. He felt overwhelmed, couldn't believe his good fortune. He was afraid it was too good to be true. Deep down what was really bothering him was that he was insecure and afraid with Sansa's new freedom, she would realize, like everyone else would clearly recognize, she could do and deserved so much more than Sandor Clegane. He had nothing to offer; an ugly face, hulking body, unpleasant personality, no money, no education. Why would she want that?

"How could you possibly give up everything for me?" Sandor whispered, looking distraught.

Sansa stared at him blankly, not quite understanding. "I'm not giving anything up." She said confused.

Sandor looked at her, astonished, "But, if you don't marry Harry, then where does your money come from?"

Then it dawned on her, she had discussed her situation with Fr. Sam. Sandor had no idea that Harry had got his money from her. Her inheritance was in her name, it was managed by her attorney, but she received a sizable monthly allowance and quarterly documents showing the status of the investments. She knew Baelish, her attorney, was slimy, but she was astute enough to keep track of her inheritance and all the investments. Sandor knew she didn't drive, but it wasn't because she couldn't afford a car. As a young woman, she had always had drivers, she never learned to drive. Then when they relocated to the small town, Sansa was happy to walk and get fresh air. Sandor probably thought that Fr. Sam was being charitable allowing Sansa residence in the guest suite; while, yes, he was being kind, Sansa was no charity case. She fully intended to compensate his generosity.

Sansa looked him straight in the face, "My money is not connected to Harry's. He became wealthy from the investments he made using some of my money. Now that our engagement is over, I just need to talk to Baelish and cancel anymore funds Harry can use from my accounts. However, it isn't urgent; he has been using his own funds for quite some time. My money is my own. I don't really have to work; I just think it might be good for me. You know, to experience life, hard work, after I have been so sheltered."

Sandor looked at her dumbfounded. He shook his head and laughed out loud. "Here I was, feeling bad that marrying me would subject you to a life to which you are not accustomed. Joke's on me."

"Really, you won't have to work either."

"Of course I'll work what else would I do all day?" Sandor scoffed.

"Well, whatever you want, really." Sansa explained, patiently.

Sandor raised his eyebrow, "I'll let Fr. Sam know I'm not leaving. I like my job here."

The matter seemed settled.

Sansa grinned at him. "Silly Woman," Sandor whispered, pulling her close and kissing her hair. "I guess all we need to do now is decide how we're going to spend our last night together."


End file.
